


the clock is ticking

by saffroncassis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Post-Season/Series 06, Rated T for swearing, Romantic Fluff, Team as Family, but make no mistake i am a lance stan, graphic descriptions of keith's eyes, its the gala/ball we deserve!, keith and lance arent together yet but yeah its literally just fluff, like six months after, takes place on earth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-06
Updated: 2018-08-06
Packaged: 2019-06-22 13:26:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15582960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saffroncassis/pseuds/saffroncassis
Summary: “What the fuck? What are you doing?”“Well, I was about to do your eyeliner, but then you decided you wanted to hold hands instead.”Keith lets out a soft, indignant sound. “I’m not letting you get a pointed object near my eyes.”Lance huffs. “Just shut up and trust me, okay?”Keith just stares hard at him for a moment. His eyes are near-black, and dark enough that Lance can’t tell if they’re a warm galra purple or brown. Finally, Keith sighs and unwraps his fingers from Lance’s hand. “I already trust you.”or, the ball episode we deserve but probably won't get





	the clock is ticking

**Author's Note:**

> season 7 is in less a week but i doubt we're getting fun times on earth so here's the team taking a break and being happy for once! also i dont care if Keith's eyes are supposed be like, blue or gray or whatever, dark eyes are so pretty!! they're absolutely beautiful and keith has near black eyes and nothing can change my mind.
> 
> thanks to Ace_Aquarius and AngelWalkingTheStars who both beta read this for me and are also an awesome ass friends ily!!! also the title is from stay by alessia cara. it doesn't really have anything to do with the fic i just really like the song.

“ _ Shit _ ,” Lance hisses and stares in despair as the toppled bottles of cosmetics start to roll off the vanity. Romelle snorts from somewhere behind him, and Lance sighs as he gets to work picking up the odd collection of earthen and altean makeup.   
  
It’s already been a day since he left Cuba for Arizona, and he’s still spacing out. It’s not like this is a new phenomena— coming back to the Garrison after summer and winter break every year used to be a nightmare in his cadet days, but this time his longing is softened by the knowledge that he’ll get to see his family again in a few weeks before he shoots up into space again.   
  
“Lance,” Allura calls to him, her voice softening the ‘ _ a _ ’ sound into an ‘ _ ah _ ’ as per usual. He turns around to her and notes that she looks stunning in her petal pink dress, and also notes that while seeing her look like starlight still ushers up fondness in his chest, the accompanying faint sting of heartache isn’t present.   
  
It’s been over five months since Allura has formally rejected him, with all the kindness and cordiality that was typical of her, and he feels fine now, truly. He’s okay, and he loves Allura, and they won’t have the kind of relationship he used to hope for, and he can remember that without hurting. He feels pretty good, all in all.   
  
“Could you hand us that pouch near the mirror? The white one.”   
  
Lance drops into a bow and grins at her. “Your wish is my command, Princess.”   
  
She rolls her eyes, and Hunk laughs softly at his antics. They're sitting on the bed, Allura on her knees with Romelle on the edge in front of her, and Hunk cross-legged next to them both. Allura’s been braiding Romelle’s hair into multiple plaits and is now arranging them into a bun at the back of her head, and Hunk is handing her bobby pins and singing along to Spotify playing on his earth phone.   
  
They look all domestic like that, dusky sunlight streaming through the bedroom window and washing them in gold. Lance thinks it's adorable.   
  
He deposits the pouch onto Hunk’s lap, who empties out these altean flower pins with petals that float and orbit around the clasps. Lance makes his way back over to Mrs. Holt’s vanity and gets to work on deciding which color of eyeliner he should wear.   
  
The Holts are letting them all stay here while they get ready for the meeting later. Well, it’s supposed to be a meeting, but really, it’s just a pompous gala where they’ll be socializing with earth military generals and leaders in the name of convincing them that going to war with a huge alien civilization is indeed a good idea.   
  
It hasn’t really occurred to him before that Earth wouldn’t jump on the idea of starting a war with space, considering how eager humans are to jump to war for anything in general, but here they are. He’s hoping that a slideshow of everything the Galra have done and Allura’s assurance that they will indeed find Earth soon will be enough, but who can tell.   
  
Pidge comes into the room from the hallway and squishes in beside him so she can see in the mirror too. Lance lets out an indignant squawk when his eyeliner wing almost turns into a scribble, and she just sticks her tongue out at him, before rifling through the vanity drawers.   
  
“Hey,” she says, and Lance meets her eyes in the mirror. “Am I okay or do I look like I’m 12?”   
  
“You  _ are _ 12.” Pidge punches his shoulder and Lance laughs as he puts his eyeliner down.   
  
She’s wearing a floral green dress and just put on a sparkly headband, and if Lance is being honest, yeah, she does look younger. It’s not a bad thing though, necessarily. She’s only 15, and if Pidge wants to make up for two years in space where her only extra clothes were battle-worn armor by wearing sparkles, then hell yeah, fucking do it.   
  
“You look great,” he says. Pidge’s face flattens in the way that says she thinks he’s only just saying that, so he smiles and holds up a tube of foundation. “You really do, now do you want me to do your makeup or not?”   
  
She rolls her eyes but smiles back and lets him get to work. He’s using her mom’s foundation since Pidge has sensitive skin and he doesn’t want to accidentally give her an allergic reaction with altean makeup, and when he dusts a little bit of blush on her cheeks she sneezes onto his sleeve.   
  
“Oops,” Pidge says, not looking very sorry, and Lance is very disgusted.   
  
A tissue suddenly appears in his field of vision and Lance follows the arm up to see that Keith’s finally changed into his suit. His tie is crooked and so is the smile he exchanges with Pidge.   
  
“Thanks,” Lance mutters, and wipes his sleeve before getting back to work.   
  
“Did Shiro leave already?” Keith leans against the wall next to the vanity, and Lance meets his eyes over Pidge’s head.   
  
“Yeah, he left to see Adam as soon as he got ready.” Keith softens at that, and bites his bottom lip. Lance turns back to Pidge, and the only sounds for the next few minutes are Hunk’s singing and Romelle attempting to catch onto the song lyrics too late.   
  
“There,” Lance says, and caps the lipgloss he was using. “All done!” Pidge turns and pushes up against the counter, leaning close to the mirror to see. She looks dewy and fresh, and Lance thinks he can pat himself on the back for a job well done.   
  
Pidge seems to think so too, because she grins and punches his shoulder again before running out of the room (to presumably show Matt and dock him a few points in the Big Brother Race). “Thank you—!”   
  
Allura finishes up with Romelle’s hair at about this time with a bright “Finally!” and Hunk stands and helps them both off the bed, then goes to deposit the now empty white pouch next to Lance, before going back to them.   
  
“Now you,” Lance says, grabbing Keith by the wrists and pulling him closer. “What am I gonna’ do with you, man?”   
  
Lance undos his tie, and Keith’s previously widened eyes narrow. “Hey, I just did that.”   
  
“Your handiwork is sloppy.”   
  
Lance grins as Keith rolls his eyes, and re-ties it so that the red cloth hangs straight down over the buttons of his shirt. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Allura smoothing down the lapels of Hunk and Romelle’s suits and does the same. He runs his hands over Keith’s shoulders too, and tugs on the black suit sleeves, knuckles brushing against the palms of Keith’s hands.   
  
When he looks up, Keith is staring straight back at him, barely a foot away.   
  
They’re the same height now that Keith’s aged two years in the Quantum Abyss. He misses his extra inches (one point for him, when the rivalry was still ongoing) but he’s also not exactly disappointed now. There’s something about the fact that he can turn around at any point and meet Keith’s eye’s without really searching for them. That Keith will just be there, no matter where Lance is, that he can be face to face with the Keith Kogane, could just look into those very dark eyes and take a step forward to lean in and press their foreheads together—   
  
“We’re going on ahead,” a loud, clipped voice says, and Lance and Keith both whip around to watch a smirking Romelle be pushed out of the bedroom doorway by a giggling Hunk and Allura.   
  
Lance feels his face heat and clears his throat. Keith’s cheeks are flushed pink, so it’s not like he’s the only one embarrassed at least. He picks up some foundation, realizes Keith probably wouldn’t have the patience for a full face of makeup, and grabs some black eyeliner instead.   
  
Lance cups Keith’s jaw in one hand, who freezes, eyes going wide. He raises the pencil to his eyes, and Keith’s hand shoots up to wrap around the pencil and, by extension, Lance’s hand.   
  
“What the fuck? What are you doing?”   
  
“Well, I was about to do your eyeliner, but then you decided you wanted to hold hands instead.”   
  
Keith lets out a soft, indignant sound. “I’m not letting you get a pointed object near my eyes.”   
  
Lance huffs. “Just shut up and trust me, okay?”   
  
Keith just stares hard at him for a moment. His eyes are near-black, and dark enough that Lance can’t tell if they’re a warm galra purple or brown. Finally, Keith sighs and unwraps his fingers from Lance’s hand. “I already trust you.”   
  
It’s not a concession Lance was expecting him to make, but it makes a pleasant warmth unfurl in his chest. Over their six month long space roadtrip, they’d gotten closer than before, even closer than they’d been while Shiro was missing if the casual admittance of intimacy was anything to go by.   
  
Keith had been doing that a lot lately. It’s probably because of the two years spent with his mom that their resident lone wolf is able to be so much…lighter now. Lance can’t exactly pinpoint any difference, just a feeling that happens sometimes when Keith acts affectionate in a way that surprises him. Like telling Lance he trusts him, or ruffling Pidge’s hair, or squeezing Lance’s arm when he comes up with a smart idea, or laying a comforting hand on Hunk’s shoulder when he realized that he left his favorite wrench back in the old castle-ship, or giving Lance a hug when he talked to Keith about Allura.   
  
Lance reaches for a soft pink altean lipgloss, and Keith doesn’t say anything when he starts to swipe it across his lips, fingers gently tugging his chin up. It’s kind of hard to focus on breathing properly when Lance is just inches from Keith’s mouth, but considering the other’s breath hitches when his thumb swipes at some gloss right under Keith’s bottom lip, it's probably— hopefully— mutual.   
  
Lance maybe, sort of, definitely has a crush.   
  
  
  
The gala is being held in the Galaxy Garrison’s cafeteria, the tables cleared out and the entire right side of those sliding, foldable walls pulled back to add classroom area. Lance feels like he’s at a school dance, even as he shakes hands and exchanges pleasantries with the possible Ministry of Defense chairperson. She might be Russia’s translator too, Lance isn’t exactly sure at this point.    
  
He’s been doing nothing but standing and talking about Voltron and Earth’s current state of isolation for the past hour and a half, and he really wants to dance. He tries to subtly scan the room for where the rest of the team is.   
  
Allura and Hunk are talking politely to Iverson and Professor Montgomery, and behind them Romelle is chewing on some appetizers and looking oddly intimidating as she stares apathetically at the instructors. A few feet away some other important looking people not in Garrison uniform are hovering and awkwardly waiting to talk to Allura. Lance almost snorts out a laugh but manages to pass it off as a smile while the lady in front of him prattles on about….something.   
  
He must look as desperate as he feels because a few minutes later he sees Keith walking towards him holding two drinks.   
  
“Excuse me, but may I steal him away?”   
  
The lady looks vaguely surprised but smiles politely and ‘gives Lance her regards’ before walking away.   
  
Keith holds out one of his drinks and Lance takes it, delighted. “Thanks for the save, man, but where the hell did you learn to smooth talk?”   
  
Keith stirs his straw around his glass and shrugs. “Matt told me to say it. Felt weird, we’re not really at a ball or anything.” He smiles. “You’re welcome, though.”   
  
Lance takes a sip of the drink Keith got him. It’s fruity and sweet, and Lance wants to laugh at the idea that they’re serving punch at an international gala. This whole situation is ridiculous: talking diplomacy with world leaders at his old boarding school!   
  
“Where were you and Matt anyway? I didn’t see you guys.”   
  
Keith leans against the wall behind him, and Lance follows suit. Their shoulders touch, and neither of them move. It’s a warm point of contact. “Pidge and us were hiding out behind the curtains over there.” One of his hands is stuffed in his pocket, so Keith points to the corner of the room with the pinky of the hand holding his drink. It is inexorably and inexplicably cute.   
  
There are curtains lining one entire wall, covering the counters where the students get their food from during lunch, and a faint blue glow emanates from where Keith pointed. Probably Pidge or Matt’s computer.   
  
Lance shifts his position on the wall so he’s leaning on his side, facing Keith. He receives a single raised brow and grins. “How are Shiro and Adam doing, by the way.”   
  
The team knew about their breakup, though not in much detail. Despite it though, the first day back on Earth, the two had been inseparable. Lance hopes they’re doing better. He’s a sucker for romance, plus Shiro is his hero. He really hopes the guy ends up happy.   
  
Keith tracks his gaze over to where Shiro and Adam are on the makeshift dance floor. There aren’t many other couples dancing, considering this is supposed to be a diplomatic meeting, and the music is soft enough that they can all talk over it easily, but the two look like they’re in their own little world.   
  
Keith’s face shifts into something sweet and less focused, a little blurry around the edges but with bright eyes and a fond tilt to his mouth. It’s something Lance has come to recognize as the face he makes whenever he talks about or sees Adam and Shiro, together, like they were always and could always be that way. It’s like a kid looking at his parents and being happy they're in love, like it can’t get any better than this.   
  
Seeing Keith like this makes Lance melt a little inside.   
  
“They’re doing better. They’re not officially together again, yet, but I don’t think it’ll be long. They broke up for just…. These complicated reasons.” Keith takes another drink from his glass. “But those reasons don’t really matter anymore, if that makes sense? So they’re okay.”   
  
“That’s good.” He means it.   
  
Keith shifts so he’s turned the slightest bit towards Lance. They’re close enough now that it feels intimate, something secluded and private carved out from the space in between their bodies. Keith’s hand is out of his pocket now, and he looks open. Relaxed. If Lance reaches out just a couple feet he could intertwine their fingers together, and he can picture it in his mind, the criss-crossed pattern of pale and brown skin, the heat of their palms pressed flat together.   
  
Lance finishes his drink and slams it onto a nearby table. “Wanna’ go dance?”   
  
“What?” Keith looks positively bewildered.   
  
“Dance. It’s this thing people do at balls.”   
  
“I don’t dance.”   
  
Lance raises his eyebrows and smirks. “ _ I know you can. _ ”   
  
“Did you— did you just quote High School Musical at me?” Keith looks like he can’t believe Lance would break out into song in the middle of a diplomatic meeting, which, really, is kind of ridiculous because of course he would.   
  
“ _ Hey batter batter, hey batter batter swing— _ ” Lance sings louder, grinning, and Keith shoves him.   
  
“Shut up,” he says, but he’s laughing and looking so fond it should be illegal. “I’ll dance with you alright just— stop!”   
  
Lance grins and grabs hold of Keith’s hand, dragging him off to the dance floor and barely giving him enough time to put down his drink. They pass Krolia and the space wolf on the way there, who are being interrogated by a group of stupefied humans. Wolfie barks when he sees Keith, and all the people flinch. Krolia smiles.   
  
They stop at the edge of the dance floor and Lance places Keith’s hand on his shoulder. He holds the other one in the air and wraps his arm around Keith’s waist, pulling them together.   
  
“I don’t know how to dance,” Keith says, looking down at his shiny black loafers. Lance nudges one of his feet.   
  
“I took lessons when I was younger, just follow my lead, okay? You’ll be fine.”   
  
They’re close enough that when Keith looks up and the light hits his eyes just so, Lance can separate the wide pupils from the irises, can see the illuminated bits of color that show his eyes aren't really black. They just look black sometimes, like in dim light or at night, looking like these pools of darkness that are stupidly easy to get lost in.   
  
Lance leads them through a couple songs, and Keith starts to get the hang of it after a while. They're not doing anything complicated, just a simple box step, swaying and moving across the edge of the dance floor. Lance catches Shiro’s eye as he and Adam step off the floor and he winks at him.   
  
If this were half a year ago Lance might have been caught off guard at Shiro doing anything of the sort, but now that they’ve actually talked and gotten closer he just winks back. Keith notices and follows his gaze before scowling. His ears are red.   
  
Lance loses track of how long they’ve been dancing. It’s nice, having all of Keith’s attention focused on him and just talking. Lance launches into a story about the snake Louis got while he was gone, and Keith replies back with a story from the weeks he spent at Pidge’s or Hunk’s houses.   
  
Keith spent some time visiting each of the team’s family at their own insistances, along with his mother, wolf, and the alteans. They were with Lance the second week on Earth, and it was….nice. Really nice.   
  
The song comes to an end and there’s silence for a few seconds while the small ensemble shifts through sheet music. Lance and Keith stop where they are, eyes bright and heads huddled close. Lance can feel Keith’s breath fan across his face.   
  
The next song starts and Krolia swoops in to steal Keith away while Hunk directs Lance into a new dance. Lance glances back at Keith, who meets his eyes, then turns back to Hunk.   
  
  
  
Fucking hell, Lance is  _ tired _ .    
  
He kicks his shoes off and throws his blazer onto the bedpost. Pidge flops face first onto the bed and groans, and Matt shoves her aside so he can lie on his back. Wolfie takes up the remaining space next to them so Krolia spreads some blankets onto the floor, while Lance goes into the bathroom to wash his face.   
  
It’s almost three in the morning which is ridiculous, honestly. Brazil got into an argument with Vietnam at around midnight, and it morphed into a very passive aggressive fight involving  _ everyone _ . Lance isn’t sure what exactly happened, but at some point Allura managed to convince Earth as a whole to join the coalition, at which point the Garrison emptied out and the team made its way back to the Holts’ while Shiro left with Adam.   
  
They’ll have to iron out a few things over the next few weeks while the new castle ship gets finished, but Lance can visit his family for dinner every other day, so life’s not all bad.   
  
He dabs at his face with a towel and checks to make sure all the makeup’s off, then starts rubbing his serums and moisturizer in. By the time he gets out of the bathroom almost everyone is fast asleep. Krolia isn’t in the bedroom, meaning she’s probably sleeping on the couch, but Romelle, Allura, and Hunk are all tangled up on the floor in one big pile, still wearing their formal attire.   
  
Keith is the only one awake, plugging his phone in to charge. He’s stripped out of his tie, suit jacket, and slacks, wearing only his button up and boxers. His hair is mussy, like he’s run his hands through it, and he smiles when he notices Lance.   
  
Lance squeezes onto the blankets next to Hunk, and pats the spot next to him. Keith lays down near the edge, careful not to touch him, but Lance throws an arm over his stomach to pull him in. He huffs out a laugh, and is tired enough to wrap fingers around Lance’s hand.   
  
Lance buries his face into the place where Keith’s neck and shoulder meet, hair tickling his nose. After a moment, he presses a soft kiss there. Keith tenses for a second, but relaxes and squeezes his hand.   
  
Maybe it’s Earth, maybe it’s his family (blood and otherwise), or maybe it’s just Keith, but Lance can say, truly, that he’s really happy right now.


End file.
